


Resident Witch- Dean x Witch!Reader

by introspectiveSeeker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean - Freeform, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean x Reader, Other, Reader Insert, Reader x Dean, Supernatural - Freeform, dean and reader, reader and dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1986843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introspectiveSeeker/pseuds/introspectiveSeeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In my hometown, I'm pretty much its guardian. I protect its citizens and offer help to a select few who know I'm a witch. But one day, these two hunters come along ready to chop my head off. Those idiots! But I got to say, the one known as Dean attracts me in a dangerous way...love between a witch and a hunter can't possibly work out...right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Notes:

[f/n]= first name

[t/n]= town name

P.O.V= Point of View

If you are a boy, please disregard the use of she or her. It’s just hard to write Dean’s P.O.V without settling on a gender.

 

*Dean’s P.O.V*

“No doubt about it, Sam. This is a witch’s doing,” I say while inspecting a herb bundle we had found hanging on a wall in plain sight.

“But why would a witch be involved with these werewolf cases?” Sam questions. In the town of [t/n], there has been reports of people being torn to shreds by a serial killer with an unusual ritual: the killer always takes the heart. Obviously, for us hunters, that means a werewolf is involved.

But with this case, the werewolf seems to be particular about his choice of food. The victims report being stalked a few days prior to being murdered. If the werewolf is aware of what he is doing to his prey, that must mean the werewolf is a pureblood. That, or the murders aren’t the work of a werewolf. This house belongs to the current target, Alissa Stewart, who has reported being stalked for the past couple of days.

So as usual, Sam and I dressed up as FBI agents and initiated an investigation of the house, not without an argument with Alissa, who couldn’t understand why an investigation of her house was necessary. But Alissa was overruled, and here we are. The reason we investigated the house was to make sure it wasn’t another supernatural being causing these deaths, like ghosts, or apparently, witches.

“Maybe it’s not a werewolf responsible, but a witch mimicking a werewolf to throw off hunters. What I don’t understand is why the witch placed this herb bundle in plain sight,” I answer.

Sam goes quiet for a moment, pondering possibilities. “Maybe the witch gave the herbs to Alissa, and Alissa hung them up herself because she believed they were just decoration or something. Let’s ask Alissa if someone gave them to her,” Sam offers.

Thus we go back outside, where a fuming Alissa is waiting. “I swear, if you made a mess I’m talking to your boss!” she threatens. I hold up my hands as a peace offering and mock surrender.

“ No worries, we didn’t mess up your house or anything. We just have a question for you,” I say and show her the herb bundle. “Where did you get these herbs?”

She arches an eyebrow at us, suspicion obvious in her eyes. “Why does that matter?” she asks.

That is a good question. “Um…” I begin, but Sam jumps to the rescue.

“The victims all have the same herb bundle, so there may be a connection to the herb bundles and the killer,” Sam lies. We haven’t investigated the other victims’ houses yet.

“Oh, that’s impossible,” Alissa responds with a wave of her hand. “My friend [f/n] gave me the herbs. You see, she believes in, well, new age stuff. I told her about being stalked and [f/n] gave me these herbs, saying they offer protection. I don’t believe in that stuff, but she made me promise that I would hang them up, so I did. [f/n] must have done the same for the others.”

“Could we have [f/n]’s address? We have a few questions for her,” Sam asks.

Though Alissa looks hesitant, she tells us the address.

“Thank you,” Sam says, then turns to me. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Alissa, you go and question [f/n].”

“Why can’t I keep watch of Alissa?” I complain.

Sam shoots me a look. “Because you would flirt instead of doing your job.”

“Come on, Sammy! You know I’d do my job,” I retort. Sam doesn’t respond, he just keeps shooting me a look. “Fine! I’ll go and do the boring part,” I say and start to head for my (precious) car, but then turn back to Alissa. “Hey, since you’re giving away addresses, I was wondering if I could have your number…?”

“Dean!” Sam shouts disapprovingly.

“Ok, ok, I’m going!” I shout in return. 

*Reader’s P.O.V*

I tiredly stretch my shoulders, still stiff from last night. I’ve been so busy patrolling the town that my body is feeling the results of my efforts. Still, I haven’t found the bastard yet.

“Hey there,” an unknown voice speaks from behind me. Startled, I fly around to meet a hazel-green eyed man.

“Who are you?” I shout out to the stranger, already flexing my fingers in case I need to attack.

“Don’t worry, I’m an FBI agent,” the man tries to reassure me.

“Let me see your badge,” I immediately demand. He pulls out a badge from his pocket and pushes it forward so that I can see it. I inspect it, determining that it seems valid enough, but I wouldn’t know personally if that is true. I cross my arms and glare at him, putting on an appearance of being intimidating. “And you think you can just barge in my home without permission?”

“Well I’m on a case, ma’am. If you haven’t noticed, people have been torn to shreds around these parts,” he smugly replies, meeting my intimidation head-on. I narrow my eyes at him.

“And your name would be?” I ask.

“Agent Grant,” he answers. “And you’re [f/n]. Alissa’s told me all about you. New age stuff, huh? Can you sense my ‘energy’ right now?”

“Very funny,” I mutter. “Just cut to the chase; what are you here for, Agent Grant?”

“I’d like to ask you,” he begins and pulls out my herb bundle, “what this is?”

My eyes widen when I see the herbs. Panicked, I look at Grant. “You took it down? You shouldn’t have done that!” I yell at him. I turn away from Grant and grab my car keys off a table. “I have to go, now. I think Alissa is in danger.” I try to push past Grant, but he blocks my way.

“Oh, don’t worry about Alissa. My partner is with her. More importantly, why shouldn’t I have taken down these herbs?” he asks, searching my eyes.

“Look, we have to go now. Your partner is in danger, too,” I hurriedly tell him, and try to push him out of my way.

“”He can take care of himself, trust me. Answer me, or I’m going to have to take measures to ensure you talk.”

I grind my teeth. “Move. Now,” and with a flick of my hand, Grant is tossed aside by a force. I dash through the door, making way to my car. But before I can make it, a hand roughly grabs my wrist and pulls me back, slamming me against a wall.

“So you’re a witch, after all,” he says, and it clicks.

“And you’re a hunter,” I venomously spit out.

He smirks at me. “Yep, I’m Dean Winchester, you may have heard of me.” His smirk disappears and is replaced with a look of surprise. “Yeowch!” he cries in pain, letting go of my wrists to reveal reddened hands. “Bitch, you burned me!”

“Oh yes, I know you and your kind,” I angrily say. “Always killing everything without getting the full story! Thinking only humans have a right to live! The idiot that you are, you don’t even realize what you just did, right?”

“Oh, you mean ruining your curse on Alissa? Sorry babe, it’s my job, what can I say?” he says, and suddenly whips out a gun.

“Shit!” I shout, and fling out my hand like it is a shield. The bullet that was shot seems to freeze in time, only a few inches away from my palm. Ok, now I’m pissed. “I so don’t have time for this,” I grind out, and flick my fingers at Dean. His body stiffens, no longer able to move on its own.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, rendered motionless.

I smirk at him. “I think me and you should have a little talk,” I say, and use my index and middle finger to mimic legs walking. Dean’s legs move in accordance to my fingers, walking towards me. Together, we situate ourselves in my car.

“For one,” I begin, “those herbs were not for hexing. They were protective herbs.”

“Oh spare me your cover story,” Dean agitatedly mutters.

“Those herbs are called wolfsbane, asshole,” I continue, pushing past Dean’s statement. “They repel werewolves.”

“If that was the case, I’m sure I would know what wolfsbane is. You’re just making shit up,” Dean responds.

“Hunters can’t use wolfsbane because it has to be enhanced by a witch,” I tell him. “Listen here, bub. I protect this town from any harmful beings. I’m the resident witch, and I don’t hurt anybody. Well, I should say I don’t hurt anybody innocent. You come along assuming I’m evil, being all ‘shoot first, ask questions later.’ This is why I tend to have issues with hunters, even though I approve of them protecting people. I just wish they would realize that humans aren’t the only ones who have a right to live.”

“Yeah, well, hunters don’t go around making deals with demons for power. Almost every witch I’ve met is corrupted by that power, so I doubt you’re any different. Just another chick getting a kick out of being powerful and special.”

“Again with the assumptions!” I yell at him. “Believe it or not, I didn’t sell my soul for magic. I taught myself magic, though ancient books. But listen,” I sigh as we stop at a red light. “Now is not the time to be arguing. Since you removed that wolfsbane, there is nothing keeping that werewolf from Alissa. Once we get to Alissa’s, I’m going to release you from this spell. In return, all you have to do is help me kill the bastard. And for the love of God, please don’t try to kill me in the process, or I’ll fry your ass.”

Though he still looks suspicious, at this point Dean seems at least a little bit convinced that I’m serious. Still, I have to keep my guard up. Finally, we reach Alissa’s house, and my face pales at the sight of it. Smashed windows and destruction is evident, meaning the werewolf is already here. But what really shakes me is the sight of blood.

“Sammy!” Dean shouts out. Must be his partner. So I turn to Dean and snap my fingers, releasing him from the spell. I tense up, in case he decides to attack me, but immediately he is out the car door and dashing for the house. I unbuckle my seatbelt and follow suit.

The inside of the house is in worse condition than the outside. Torn and smashed furniture lay scattered about the house, along with blood splattered here and there. If Alissa makes it out alive, lord only knows how pissed she is going to be about this. A loud bang of a gunshot interrupts such thoughts, coming from upstairs.

Immediately, Dean and I are stomping up the stairs. There, beyond a smashed door, is a werewolf towering over a man who has deep gashes on his chest and holding a shaky gun, and Alissa, who is being shielded by the wounded man.

“Sam!” Dean shouts. The werewolf turns his gaze to me and Dean with a snarl. Dean whips out a gun and starts shooting, but the bullets aren’t silver, thus the werewolf tackles Dean to the ground.

“Dean!” I shout, and fling my hand. The werewolf is slammed to the wall, stunned for the moment.

“Go help Sam!” Dean says, pulling out a silver bullet and loading it in gun. “I got wolf man.”

“Got it!” I reply, and make way over to who I now know is Sam. He had collapsed, blood covering his shirt. I can tell he is in critical condition.

“I’m [f/n],” I tell Sam. “I’m a witch, but I’m here to help you. I’m going to remove your shirt, ok? I need to press my hands on the wound while inciting a healing incantation.” Sam looks at me a moment, obviously a bit mistrustful, but after a while he nods his head as a signal to begin. I remove the jacket and tie, and set to work on unbuttoning his shirt. After getting his shirt off, I place my hands on the bloody mess called his chest.

I ignore the commotion Dean and the werewolf are creating. Apparently, Dean missed his shot, and now is struggling with the werewolf once again. But I have to set to work immediately on Sam, so I push aside my worry. “Dean!” I shout. “Keep the werewolf distracted! No matter what, I can’t be interrupted while doing this spell. Your partner is in critical condition!”

“That’s what I’m doing!” Dean’s strained voice replies, busy struggling with the werewolf. I turn my attention back to Sam, and begin the incantation. My voice puts on a powerful tone, speaking in an ancient language. My hands faintly glow as I watch the slow process of Sam’s wound starting to close. 

I hear a loud crash, Dean having been tossed at a table. Alissa is cowering in a corner, whimpering. But I tune it all out, focusing on my incantation. Minutes have passed, when I hear another gunshot. This time, a yelp is heard and then silence. Dean must have finally killed the werewolf. And just in time too, for Sam’s wound has been healed. However, Sam had passed out in the process.

“How is he?” Dean asks me breathlessly, coming to my side to see Sam’s condition.

“His wound is closed, but I recommend taking him to a hospital or something. He lost a lot of blood, so he needs some blood pumped into him. I don’t know what you can say to the doctor, though, considering the wound is closed,” I tell him sheepishly with a shrug. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Thank you,” Dean says, which catches me off guard. “If you weren’t here, I don’t know what would have happened to Sam.”

I smile warmly at him. “No problem, it’s my job. Let’s get him to my car, he should get some blood asap.”

“That’s ok, my car is parked outside,” Dean replies, and tries to heft Sam up. “Ugh” Dean grunts. “Mind helping me out carrying Moose here?”

I grin at him, amused by the nickname. “No problem,” I reply, and with a wave of my hand Sam begins levitating. I glance at Alissa, who is wide eyed and going through utter shock. “I’ll take him to your car, so can you take care of Alissa?”

Dean too glances at Alissa. “No problem,” he says, and crouches down to be level with the cowering girl. I leave the room to let him comfort her.

I find a black impala, which I assume to be Dean’s car. I open the back seat door and carefully place Sam on the seat. After making sure Sam is properly situated, I walk to my car and pull out a piece of paper and pen from a compartment. I scribble on it, when Dean walks out of the house.

“How is she?” I ask him.

“Oh, you know, just acting like any girl who has had her world turned upside down. I mean, after having been attacked by a werewolf, had her home torn up, and discovering her friend is a witch, wanting a little alone time is understandable,” he replies. “But she is holding up fine, I’d say. Just give her some time.”

I nod at him. “Ok, thanks. Here,” I say, and hand him the piece of paper I scribbled on. He looks at the paper to see a weird symbol.

“What’s this supposed to be?” he asks.

“A witch’s version of a phone number, you could say,” I tell him. “If you ever need my help, or information or something, just scribble that symbol somewhere and you’ll be able to contact me.”

“And you couldn’t just give me your phone number?” he says.

“Well, that symbol enables me to teleport to you if need be. I figure you don’t need help from a ‘lowly’ witch such as myself, but you know, if you need me, I’ll help,” I tell him with a smile.

He grins charmingly at me in response. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. You’re not so bad, after all. Sorry I jumped the gun,” he apologises.

“No problem,” I tell him with a dismissive wave. “I’m not dead, so all’s well that ends well. Just make sure you make sure someone is evil before trying to shoot them.”

“I’ll try,” Dean says, but I doubt he’ll keep that in mind. He gets into the driver’s seat of his car. “I should be heading out now. Stay out of trouble, you hear? I don’t want to have to come back to find you being the wicked witch of the west.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah. See ya’, trigger finger,” I tell him in farewell.

“See ya’, beautiful,” he says with a wink, and with that he drives off. I shake my head at the retreating car. That man may get on my nerves, but I can’t help but like something about him. Plus, admittedly, he was kind of cute.

But I shouldn’t think that way! He’s a hunter, I’m a witch, end of story.

*Dean’s P.O.V*

I glance at the piece of paper I had tossed on the passenger’s seat. Seems like by the end of the day, I managed to get a hottie’s number after all.

Wait, hottie? No way, can’t be thinking that way! She’s a witch, I’m a hunter, end of story.

Still, no denying how attractive [f/n] is. I wouldn’t mind seeing that face again someday.

Wait...dammit! Remember, Dean, [f/n]’s a witch. Off limits, man. Yeah...off limits.

 

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter Two

Notes:

[f/n]= first name

P.O.V= Point of View

 

*Reader’s P.O.V*

I slide my finger around the rim of my wineglass absentmindedly, trying to pay attention to my date but failing miserably. What am I doing here, you may ask? Well, Alissa, (who came to terms with me being a witch and remained my friend) insisted that I shouldn’t be alone for the rest of my life, thus she hooked me up with a blind date.

And the man is completely dull. Sure, he is nice, and successful, and even good looking, but nothing about him lights a spark in me. And as I sit here, staring blindly into space as the man yammers on, my mind wanders to a man who does intrigue me: Dean Winchester.

When I had given him my “witch’s number” years ago, I never really expected him to use it. After all, hunters are known to kill witches, not work with them. But one day, he actually asked me for my help on a case. After that, he continued to call me for various reasons: information, the use of my powers, alibis, advice, and sometimes, even comfort. All these years I have been working with Dean, to the point that I have an intimate understanding of him, and learned many of his secrets.

For example, his deep bond with his brother, Sam. No matter what issues they run into, whatever arguments they may have, those two remain inseparable. As I have learned, nothing can hurt Dean more than something happening to Sam. For example, when Sam had become addicted to demon blood. It hurt enough for me to see sweet little (ok, not so little) Sammy becoming so corrupted by the blood, but it hurt more to see Dean become so torn up over it.

During that time, he had called me over to help him add extra reinforcements to Bobby’s panic room. I still remember the day like it was yesterday. Dean had confided to me how he felt, something Mr. Tough Guy was not fond of doing. At that time, I did the only thing I could think of to comfort him: I hugged him. I had already given him my two cents on the subject, but it didn’t seem like it was enough, so I offered him physical comfort. And to my surprise, he had held on to me tightly. I can still feel his arms wrapped strongly around me…

Oh, I got to snap out of it! I’m on a date for Christ’s sake, I can’t be thinking about another man. An unattainable man, at that. I revert my attention back to my date, who is looking at me expectantly. I start thinking of things I can say, but before I can say anything I feel a buzzing within me, which is what happens when someone is trying to contact me through my “witch’s number.”

I smile apologetically at my date. “I’m sorry, I need to go to the restroom. I’ll be back in a moment,” I tell him, and make way to the bathroom.

I look around to make sure the bathroom is empty, which luckily, it is. I enter a stall and lock it. Facing the stall door, I lift my hands in front of me, and begin concentrating. Moments later, an astral projection of Dean is facing me. His eyebrow lifts at the sight of me. “What are you dressed up so fancy for?” he asks.

I bite my lip, feeling guilty for no good reason. But I shouldn’t be guilty, Dean and I are only friends. So I straighten myself and look at Dean almost challengingly. “I’m on a date,” I respond.

At this, Dean’s expression becomes strained, and he smiles tightly at me. “Well, I hate to ruin your date, but I need you here at the moment,” he says.

“Can’t you just do whatever you need done without my help? I can’t just up and leave my date!” I cry in exaggeration, flinging my hands up in the air.

“Hmm, let me think about that,” he replies, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Umm...no.”

I huff out, a bit pissed. Of course of all the times Dean could need me, it would be now, when I’m on a date. “Well, what am I supposed to tell him?” I ask, irritated.

“I don’t know, tell him a friend is in the hospital or something,” he replies.

I roll my eyes at him. “This better be important, Dean. See you in a sec,” I say with a wave of my hand, diminishing the astral projection. I unlock my stall and pull out my phone, so that it looks like I was on it. I exit the bathroom and return to my date.

He smiles at me in a puppy-love way, which makes me feel so guilty. I change my expression so that it looks like I’m very upset and regretful. I wave my phone so that he sees it. “I’m so, so sorry, but a friend of mine called. She’s in the hospital, and she needs me. I hate to do this, but I have to go,” I tell him in an apologetic tone.

His expression drops, causing another twinge of guilt. “It’s ok, I understand,” he says. “Maybe we can do this again another day?”

Even though he is a nice guy, I’m not really interested in him that way. But looking at his apprehensive face, I can’t bring myself to reject him. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll fall for the guy, thus moving on from a certain Winchester. “Yeah, I’d like that,” I tell him with a fake smile. I pull out money for the bill, paying for my half. “I’ll see you later.”

He smiles brightly at me. “Yeah, see you,” he says in farewell, and with that, I exit the restaurant. I get into my car, letting loose a sigh. I start driving in case my date is keeping track of me, and eventually park my car in some parking lot.

“Here I go. Dean Winchester, you better be decent this time,” I mutter, remembering the time Dean had summoned me and asked me for help a day in advance. When I teleported to him the day after, he was naked, much to my embarrassment. But hot damn, those abs…

I snap out of it and close my eyes, concentrating on teleporting. I feel wind swirl around me, rapidly and then gradually slowing down. When the wind stops swirling, I open my eyes to find myself parked in some motel’s parking lot. My eyes sweep the parking lot till I spot Dean, then make way over to him. “Ok, what is it?” I ask him.

“I’ll explain on the way there,” he says, then guids me to where his car is parked. I get into the passenger’s seat, taking in the familiar scent of his car.

The start of the drive is oddly quiet, void of Dean’s usual jokes and singing, but more importantly, his explanation. I don’t say anything, and instead just wait patiently for him to say something. After the quietness stretches on for too long, Dean clears his throat. “So, this guy. What’s he like?” he asks.

I stare at him in confusion. “Why are you asking?” I question him. Isn’t he supposed to be explaining himself?

Dean fidgets in his seat subtly. “Ah, well, I was just wondering why I’ve never heard about this guy till now,” he responds.

“Because,” I start slowly, “you’re not my brother so you don’t need to know everything about my personal life. I mean, you don’t tell me about every girl you sleep with, right? But if you must know, I don’t really know the guy. He was a blind date set up by Alissa.”

Dean looks irritated for a split second, probably offended by me calling him out on his sleeping around. With an almost bored expression, he asks me, “And...did you like him?”

I shrug my shoulders. “He was nice, but...I wasn’t really interested.” Dean’s irritated expression is replaced with what looks like relief, which plants a little seed of hope that Dean was jealous. But I crush that seed, unwilling to set myself up for disappointment. “So, what do you need me for?”

Dean starts to fidget once again. “About that…” he trails off.

“What?” I ask, pushing for a response.

“There is no case,” he says. For a moment, everything goes quiet as I try to register what he said.

Then it clicks. “What!?” I screech. “If there is no case, what am I here for?” Dean parks us in some parking lot. He grips the steering wheel, the tension in him obvious.

“I actually already knew you were on a date. Sam told me so,” he says. Damn it, Sam! I told you that in confidence!

“So?” I prod, wondering what that has to do with anything.

Dean takes a deep breath, then finally faces me. “And I didn’t like it.”

At this, I am speechless. “Huh?” I breath out.

He stares deep into my eyes, which makes my pulse race. “I said, I don’t like the idea of you dating someone besides me.”

My belly explodes in an eruption of butterflies, my face becoming warm. I turn away from him and fiddle with my hands. I let loose nervous laughter. “Very funny, Dean. What, did I ‘bewitch’ you or something?”

“Hey, I’m being dead serious!” he says, and gribs my shoulders so that I am forced to look at him. “Look, [f/n], for a long time now you’ve become someone very important to me. You’re one of the very few people I can talk to, someone who no matter the situation can make me feel better. When I’m around you, I forget all the shit I’ve been through and can genuinely have a good time. When I’m in trouble, I can always rely on you for help. I love your laugh, your eyes, who you are, hell, I even love your voodoo crap! Which is freaky weird, but I don’t even care at this point. I just...I just can’t stand the idea of you leaving me behind to start a more normal life with some other guy.”

I feel my breath catch, overwhelmed with what Dean is telling me. “I…” I force out, and take a deep breath. “I…I feel the same way! I’m always thinking about you, even when I try not to. Your voice, your attitude, your depth of caring, what you’ll do for the ones you love, your strong will, your love of pie, your sense of humor, your taste in music and singing to songs like a goofball, everything! Even if we don’t get along all the time, I still...I love you Dean.”

Dean smiles at me, reaching his hand out to tangle his fingers in my hair. He brings me close, gazing into my eyes. “I really love you, Witchy” he murmurs, and closes the distance with his lips. His lips are rough, but he kisses me gently. I graze my fingers through his hair and bring him closer, urging him to kiss me deeper. He responds by kissing me more roughly, lips moving rapidly against my own.

Overcome with a need to be closer, I unbuckle my seatbelt and shuffle so that I’m straddling Dean. I kiss him fervently, hands roaming his chest. When we part for breath, Dean slides his lips to my neck, his stubble tickling my skin. He kisses my neck, making me groan out. “Dean, it tickles!” I cry.

I feel him smirk against my skin. “Ok, I’ll fix that,” he responds, and then he bites my neck softly. I groan out more as he suckles my skin, leaving behind a mark. “A little something to ward off blind dates,” he says as he pulls back.

“Jerk!” I cry, but I can’t help the smile on my face. “How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Hey, this is better than doing some weird blood ritual or whatever it is you witches do to close the deal,” he jokes, and brings his lips back to mine.

But eventually we are interrupted by a knocking on the window and a light flashing in our faces. Panicked and embarrassed, I jump off of Dean’s lap and lunge for the passenger seat. “You guys aren’t allowed to be doing that smut here!” an angry voice yells at us, coming from a uniformed man.

Dean rolls down the window and grins wolfishly at the man. “Sorry, sir, you know how it is in the heat of the moment. We’ll be leaving now.” And before the man can say anything, Dean swiftly presses the pedal and drives away, leaving behind a yelling man. I can’t help but laugh, the thrill of the moment flowing through me.

Dean looks over at me, grinning as well. “What do you want to do now?” he asks me.

“A blood ritual!” I joke, and Dean chuckles at me. At the moment, both of us are on cloud nine. “I do know one thing I need to do.”

“What?” Dean asks.

“I need to cancel that date I agreed to!” I say.

“Damn straight!” Dean agrees. An idea occurs to me, and I grin mischievously at him.

“I know something we can do,” I tell him.

“What would that be?” he questions me.

“This!” I say, and begin chanting. The car starts to lift into the air, until eventually we are full out flying.

Dean lets out a shout of surprise, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. I tell him with a laugh, “You gotta get used to dating a witch! I bet you’ve never flown a car, now have you?”

Together, we fly through the night sky, Dean whooping out his delight. I lean over and peck him on the lips.

Seems like Dean and are inseparable as well, no matter what issues we run into, whatever arguments we may have. No matter our differences, we have come to need each other. But I may have to write Dean a guidebook labeled “How to Maintain Your Witch!”

 

The End


End file.
